


the summertime and butterflies all belong to your creation

by vindice



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek and Stiles are the Same Age, Dragon AU, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Humor, I'm In For A Ride As Much As You Are, Jackson is a Hale, Jordan is a Stilinski, M/M, Multi, No Hale Fire, Obliviousness, Pack Dynamics, Soft Precious Babies, The Characters Do What They Want, Theater Kid Derek, listen, technically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22469065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vindice/pseuds/vindice
Summary: “What are you?” Derek asks intrigued.Stiles lets his fangs drop a little and allows his eyes to change, just enough to fuel his interest and keep him on his toes.“Now, where’s the fun in that?” Stiles grins.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Jordan Parrish/Kira Yukimura, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Peter Hale/Sheriff Stilinski
Comments: 22
Kudos: 107





	1. Observation

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be a multiple au ficlet collection, but after further observation I just fell down a rabbit hole and I’m now in love with the one I started it with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Anniversary sterekdrabbles!
> 
> Inspired by this [prompt](https://sterekdrabbles.tumblr.com/post/190535465480/happy-wednesday-we-hope-everyone-is-having-a)!

“You’re not human.”

Stiles bangs his head on the edge of his desk where he had been untangling some cables on the floor, making him hiss momentarily in pain.

 _Damn sneaky wolves_. Stiles completely disregards the little voice at the back of his head that sounds incredibly like his father telling him he’s the one who lets his guard down around them.

“Hello to you too, Derek,” Stiles drawls sarcastically as he sits back on his chair. It lasts all of two seconds before he lets his whole demeanor change and a grin takes over his face, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I was wondering how long it would take you to find out.”

Derek’s expression doesn’t shift in the slightest, but Stiles knows triumph when he sees it. If he didn’t know any better he would even go as far as saying there is something vindictive in the almost unnoticeable upturn of Derek’s mouth.

“How old are you?” Derek makes himself at home, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Werewolves. If Stiles hadn’t long since decided the Hales are his, it would have made his skin prickle at the blatant disrespect. But it goes both ways, Stiles knows. Otherwise Derek wouldn’t have bothered making a conversation when he’s so fond of maiming and nibbling on things.

For a seventeen-year-old he is surprisingly vicious.

Stiles loves it.

“Young,” he says dismissively. And then, because curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back, he asks, “Whatever do I owe the pleasure?”

“What are you?” Derek asks, intrigued. Clearly he knows what to expect from Stiles, but seems to deem it still worth a shot.

Stiles lets his fangs drop a little and allows his eyes to change, black swallowing sclera and golden iris shining in the dark. A small patch of skin on the left side of his face hardens slightly, just enough to let Derek see the moonlight reflect off Stiles’ darks and crimsons contrasting on his pale skin, just enough to fuel his interest and keep him on his toes.

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” Stiles grins.


	2. Glitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ELLE asked:  
>  _ ~~Ocean or~~ Glitter from the [prompt](https://apiratefellinlovewithastar.tumblr.com/post/190704802399/lunamieres-send-a-ship-a-number-between) list? 💜💜💜_
> 
> And I’m happy to oblige!♡

“Remind me again why are we doing this?”

The corner of Stiles’ lip quirks up before he can help it, but he barely refrains from rolling his eyes. 

“Because you never pass up a chance to torment your cousin, for starters,” Stiles snorts. “And ever since you found out I’m _something,_ ” he raises his eyebrows in emphasis, telling Derek he’s still not saying what without bothering to slow his pace down. He needs to get what they came here for and hide it in Derek’s backpack. The last thing he needs is to get caught with that where Jackson can see it and give him a chance to start plotting his counterattack so soon. “You’ve been following me around like a lost puppy.”

Heh. Puppy.

It was unintended, but Stiles won’t let go of the opportunity so sue him.

Derek rolls his eyes. Stiles isn’t paying him any visual attention but he doesn’t need to be watching to know he did so.

“What I mean,” Derek starts slowly, as if talking to a child. Which, rude, but Stiles will let him have his retaliation just this once. He’s _busy._ “Is _why_ are we knee-deep in Finstock’s private office in the middle of lunchtime when we could be _eating._ ”

“Because here’s where Coach keeps all the good supplies he steals from the art teacher.” Stiles says obviously, before stopping for a second to clarify, “The _asshole_ art teacher. Evans is an angel, they should be promoted from this hellhole.”

He moves to the other side of the desk.

“And,” Stiles opens a secret compartment on the last drawer, smirking in triumph when he finds what he’s been looking for. “ _Aha!_ Der, be a dear and close that for me, will you?” He zooms across the room, “Besides, what are you complaining about? It’s not like you actually _enjoy_ it. You hate cafeteria food. Just yesterday you said the PB&J sandwiches taste like cardboard boxes.”

“How do you even know this stuff?” Derek asks incredulously. He shakes his head, the telltale noise of hair brushing over cloth soft to Stiles’ distracted enhanced hearing, barely noticeable over the clink of metal against metal. “It’s not about the food,” Derek argues heatedly, getting back on track and following Stiles at a sedate pace. “It’s about the goddamn smell.”

“I might be on the swimming team, but don’t forget I’m the lacrosse team’s manager. Add to it that I’ve known Coach since middle school before he decided it was more fun tormenting teenagers, and for better or for worse, I know _a lot_ about Finstock.” Stiles says solemnly as he slots the key he picked from Finstock’s desk on the lock of the closet, opening the door. It’s more of a small storage room, Stiles thinks absently.

Derek steps beside him and scrunches up his nose. “My condolences.”

“You sound like Peter.” Stiles grins at Derek’s endearing attempts to hide how pleased hearing that makes him with an offended expression. “And what did you expect? Getting Coach to get rid of it is a work in progress. You have to understand him to make him do what you want, Derek. You don’t get to where I am with just long eyelashes and a pretty face.”

Derek snorts.

“What? I’m serious!” Stiles throws up his hands, “One can’t simply confront Finstock; you work around him. _Lento._ How do you think I’ve been able to look after a bunch of grown over-excited toddlers the last couple of months?

“I’m an expert tactician,” Stiles sniffs haughtily. “I’ve been gradually convincing him it’s his own idea to move those goddamn Camemberts to his own fridge, and I have a rotative system on place that may or may not involve delivering his forgotten dirty clothes for when the team gets too rowdy or behave like complete assholes, between other things.”

Derek pats his shoulder comfortingly, not even bothering to hide his amusement. Jerk.

He can’t fool him. Stiles can feel the wonder and the approval radiating off of him.

Being himself has its perks. Empathy, for one. _Ha!_ Suck it, werewolves. It’s harder to hide what you’re feeling when it’s not only your scent you need to worry about.

“Now, then.” Stiles rests his hands on his hips. 

His gaze roams the shelves until it falls on their prized items. He feels his eyes changing color, and he’s sure at least one patch of skin is covered in dark and fiery colors under all his clothing, but he can’t help it. He’s in good company _and_ he feels pretty victorious right now.

He beams, passing Derek two white bottles and getting an involuntary smile in return. It’s a quick, almost shy sort of genuine, one of Derek’s small and precious ones, the type he only reflexively gifts on scarce situations and Stiles hasn’t quite found the pattern of yet.

Stiles saves his swooning for later.

“You think my uncle will take kindly to you bullying his only son?” Derek asks him cheerily, not caring in the slightest if his uncle does or not.

“Peter will  _ praise _ me, that’s what he will.” Stiles says confidently, taking two paint brushes. “And, anyway, is it really bullying when he’s your best friend, practically stepbrother, and you have a prank war going on?”

“You have too much power, overall.” Derek looks up from the glue he’s holding and grins at Stiles, “When do we start?”

“Tonight,” Stiles says gleefully, picking up the large glitter container. He thinks of Jackson and both his lockers, and the mischievous gleam of Stiles’ eyes stares right back at him from Derek’s own. “We’re gonna make it sparkle.”


	3. Ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ELLE asked:  
>  _Ocean ~~or Glitter~~ from the [prompt](https://apiratefellinlovewithastar.tumblr.com/post/190704802399/lunamieres-send-a-ship-a-number-between) list? 💜💜💜_
> 
> And I’m happy to oblige, part II!♡

On the third day of spring break, Stiles pauses the Mario Kart run they’re playing when Talia walks into the gameroom and starts eying the young crowd scattered around the place with something he can’t quite put his finger on.

He’s on the floor, in the space between Derek’s legs as he reads a book on the recliner. Isaac is in a similar position to Stiles on Derek’s left, head resting on Derek’s knee while Laura lounges along the right cushioned side, sitting on the arm of the recliner and holding her controller in one hand.

Jackson’s dozed off on the loveseat and Cora is coloring on her tablet slumped in a beanbag by his feet. Stiles can hear Erica puttering around the kitchen, Liam microwaving cheese for his nachos, and Boyd talking to them softly from the counter.

Jordan traded the next few days with Val after he heard she isn’t visiting her sister this holiday so he could have his days off earlier to spend some time with the Pack, and he’s sleeping in after his last graveyard shift. It won’t be long before he too wakes up, though. 

Kira left a bit ago, cryptically talking about picking something more appropriate for the occasion. What occasion, Stiles has no idea.

“Beach trip!” Talia announces with a handclap and a dazzling smile, promptly walking out the room before pandemonium breaks out.

* * *

Jordan is waist deep in the ocean giving Cora a piggyride, the water barely passing her calves and her laughter loud and bright. Erica and Laura play volleyball with most of the boys, and when Derek slams the ball as soon as there’s an opening between the two the others start to whoop and holler and jump around. Even Jackson who is in their team, the dork.

Kira and Stiles and Liam are meanwhile basking in the sun, lounging on the beach chairs they set up first thing after finding the perfect spot. The adults loiter around, drifting in and out the beach house at their backs, all of them having a good time.

Liam offers to apply his sunscreen but Stiles kindly turns him down, not wanting to waste his product more than Liam is already doing when he knows he can’t get sunburn.

The more Stiles gets is a deep flush, sometimes even a light tan, that disappears after a few days before returning to his pale complexion. Not unlike the wolves, but Stiles is way less affected by the sun or heat than them.

Really, the only one who can possibly surpass Stiles on that front is Jordan, and that’s only because _he literally sets himself on fire,_ so it’s more of a draw than anything else. If anyone were to set Stiles on fire he would _so_ pull it off as well, that’s why he does not envy his brother.

Kira mentions how fun it would be burying someone in the sand and both boys agree. At that, Liam starts eying the guys with interest. Stiles is about to volunteer, thinking about how nice it must feel to be wrapped in a sandy cocoon, when Liam’s gaze lands on Isaac and he goes to stand, glee and determination already shining in his eyes. It’s a good look on him, the pain and angst nowhere to be found, and he looks carefree and happy, face open and not angry, but Stiles can’t really appreciate it at the moment because he just knows what Liam is about to do.

He’s one of the newest Betas. He doesn’t know any better, and it’s not like they go broadcasting Isaac’s past. But he’s not hoard, not _yet,_ — even though he _is_ pack and there are tendrils of possibility tentatively grazing against Stiles’ mind, telling him all he needs is a little more bonding time — and it sets off his protectiveness before he can help it.

It really isn’t his fault, but Stiles’ mind flashes with nasty memories of a terrified little boy, an introverted Isaac littered in bruises and broken skin, a suffocating fear of enclosed spaces that Stiles felt to his very core despite it not being his own, and he acts on instinct, catching Liam by the wrist and growling lowly at him, flashing his eyes in warning.

It attracts the attention of everyone in the vicinity, including Isaac himself. Even some of the adults given Peter just went back to his father’s side after bringing them a cooler with refreshments and a tote bag filled with chips.

Liam jerks back in surprise, no doubt astounded by the display since it’s the first time he’s ever seen any of Stiles’ powers.

“Stiles, it’s okay,” Derek is suddenly there, a comforting presence, a grounding hand between his shoulder blades. Stiles doesn’t even know when he got up from his place, but him and Liam are now standing in front of their chairs.

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek repeats, soothing but firm, and Stiles snaps back to himself. He blinks. Liam is looking at him warily, confusion oozing off of him, shoulders tense as if getting ready for a strike. 

It’s the last thought itself that shakes him out of his stupor, and Stiles lets go of his wrist as if _he_ has been struck.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles blurts out in distress, suddenly very aware of everyone watching. “ _I’m_ _so sorry._ I didn’t mean to hurt you, it’s just — you were going for — Isaac, and my instincts kicked in.”

Liam’s eyes wander over Stiles’ face, watching intently his expression. Whatever he finds must satisfy him, because he relaxes slowly.

“Not gonna lie, you caught me by surprise,” Liam smiles wryly, before it turns into something more genuine. He looks warmly at Stiles, eyes alight with understanding. “But you were just trying to protect him.”

To drive his point across, he’s the one who takes Stiles by the wrist this time and makes to pull him down onto the beach chairs. Kira makes her way towards the ocean to play with Cora and Jordan, throwing back an encouraging smile as she goes by.

It’s a little harder for Derek because Stiles can tell he doesn’t want to let him go, so he lets out a breath and tries for a smile but knows he fails when Liam’s baby blue eyes soften from the corner of his eye. Still, Derek does let go of him this time, albeit reluctantly, but only after Stiles gives him a tiny nod and gets a comforting squeeze in return.

He wouldn’t have hurt him. Everyone knows that. _Stiles_ knows that. He’s confident in his control.

It was still unexpected.

“Hey,” Liam says lightly, both now sitting face to face. The pack returns to their previous activities in an attempt to give them some privacy, trying to pretend they’re not attuned after what just happened. 

Stiles can feel Isaac’s eyes lingering on them a second longer. 

“Remember the night I met you guys?” Liam hasn’t let go of Stiles’ wrist. His grip is gentle, almost an afterthought, as if he doesn’t notice he’s doing it in the first place. “When I was running for my life and then that wendigo mentioned my best friend?” Stiles’ smile is more sincere this time. He feels a flicker of amusement seizing in his tummy. How could he forget it? It was a remarkable night. “Remember how I lost it and knocked them out with a crowbar when they said they were gonna make me watch them eat Mason before they ate me?”

Stiles remembers that. 

That’s the thing about humans, Stiles thinks. It doesn’t matter their obvious physical disadvantage compared to the supernatural. When it comes down to it, to those they care about, Stiles has found to his endless fascination, they are willing to do about anything to protect them, just as any other creature who ever loves something does.

The human brain and its response to adrenaline, fueled by rage, fear, and the need to protect, are truly a work of art.

That, coupled with the steadiness of Liam’s heart and the lack of apprehension Stiles can sense where the Beta still hasn’t let go of his wrist, makes him relax, the last of the tension in Stiles’ body dissipating at last, and everyone around them truly goes back to what they were doing with jolly ease.

At Stiles’ little smile, Liam perks up.

“So, you don’t need to worry,” Liam grins, almost proudly. Then he adds, surreptitiously and somewhat timid, “I’m looking forward to earning that side of you as well,” surprising Stiles in a way that makes something in his chest tighten and vibrate, a pleasant buzz filled with warmth that he knows all too well.

Yes. A little bit of bonding time indeed.

“Stiles?”

A hesitant voice pries his attention away from Liam, and he turns to his right to find Isaac a few paces from them, looking uncharacteristically shy compared to the self-assured front he carries when they’re out in the open.

“Isaac,” Stiles raises his eyebrows in surprise, but then again, he shouldn’t be. “What’s up, bud?”

He looks between Liam and Stiles.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asks bashfully.

Stiles looks back at Liam, but he’s already getting to his feet. 

He throws them a beatific smile, “I’m stealing your spot,” he informs, clearly directed at Isaac, before jogging over to the sandy court to give them their space. 

Stiles casts a quick scan to his surroundings, but everything is alright. He catches Noshiko looking out at something from the house with what could be mistaken for a serious expression by anyone who doesn’t know any better, but that Stiles immediately recognizes as her secretive smile. Stiles follows her gaze only to find Kira a little ways from them, blushing and laughing at something Jordan says as both of them make sandcastles with Cora, and he smiles as well.

Isaac sits down on the previously occupied space. They stare at each other in silence. 

He lasts all of ten seconds before he throws himself at Stiles, hugging him tightly. Stiles can’t do anything but return the embrace, pat him on the back lightly.

“Thank you,” Isaac says quietly, voice muffled in Stiles’ throat where he’s trying and endearingly failing to scent mark him in a subtle way.

Stiles can hear everything he doesn’t say. _Thank you for having my back. Thank you for looking after me. Thank you for being my friend._

He hides his smile in Isaac’s curls. “No problem, buddy.”

* * *

Erica proclaims it’s no fun just burying him alive, they have to make it look like something, _anything,_ and that’s when everyone takes it upon themselves to make the best sculpture _ever._

Only, they’re just goofing around and coming up with one thing more ridiculous than the last one.

He lets them; it’s harmless fun, after all, and he particularly enjoys Boyd’s hand at a shark victim. Although his favorite, hands down, is Jackson’s take at a mermaid’s body.

They’re fiery little things. Stiles has only met a few merfolk, but with the exception of one, they’ve been really nice to him. Kind and selfless. Wary to an extent, sure, but Stiles doesn’t really blame them. He’s seen firsthand how the world works for the supernatural, how it can be less than savory _especially_ for creatures like them and Stiles himself, mythical as both their species are even amongst the community, how it isn’t as generous as it should be.

Needless to say, Stiles respects them. 

Maybe he can slip out tonight and get into the ocean to see if any of his friends is nearby. Aquamarine has always been fond of this part of the world, maybe he can catch up with her if she isn’t too busy to heed his call.

For now, Stiles is sleepy. He’s currently buried in the sand, waves lulling him to sleep as Derek runs gentle fingers through his hair, sitting next to him as they watch the sun slip away.

He feels warm, content as he is, surrounded by his loved ones. His hoard fluttering nearby and enjoying themselves.


	4. Fools

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ELLE asked:  
>  _17 ~~or 20~~ from the writing [prompts](https://apiratefellinlovewithastar.tumblr.com/post/611093251500408832)? If you want💜_
> 
> ♡ ♡ ♡

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Stiles almost jumps out of his skin at the voice coming out of nowhere. Judging by the hitched breath next to him and the pointy nails digging into his arm, Erica fares no better.

They backtrack the couple of steps to the living room and look around until their eyes fall on Laura’s unmoving form, sitting on the couch by the curtained window and reading in the dark like a weirdo.

Laura marks her page when silence drags on, closes her book, and finally looks up with bright red eyes.

Of course. Explains the absence of light. Stiles does it too, sometimes, on moonless nights when he’s on a good ol’ fashioned research binge and doesn’t want to get up from his bed after having just gotten comfortable.

“Well?” Laura prompts again.

“You know those stores across from Harmony’s?” Stiles asks instead of answering.

Of course she knows the stores. Everyone knows Dove’s and Will’s. The cosmetic and the comic stores on San Francisco Street are great part of the current flow of gossip in their small big town.

Healthy entertainment and all that.

Laura fights off a grin, clearly knowing what he’s talking about. She’s trying to look stern and authoritative in the face of what her wolf senses as two of her charges sneaking out in the middle of the night, Stiles supposes.

She can be scary sometimes—really, girls are terrifying—but the joke’s on her. Stiles used to change her diapers before he had to leave for Japan in a hurry, and Peter always sent personalized postcards of the pack while he was there. It’s a little hard to unassociate little Lala, covered in mud and making cakes out of fruit scraps for the roly-polies in her backyard, from the Alpha in training in front of him after having fed her oatmeal and seen her smeared in macaroni and cheese.

“What are the rivals up to now?”

“Hey,” Erica defends weakly. Laura chuckles lightly, like she already knows what Erica is going to say. And she does: it’s an argument as old as the competitiveness of those two. “They just need to bone.”

Stiles thinks that is a valid point, personally. It’s all repressed feelings and unresolved sexual tension, he nods sagely.

“They’re having a sale,” he interjects before they get any more off track. “ _The same day_. Which is hilarious but also inconvenient as hell because neither of them is backing out, as always.”

“That means discounts in my favorite marks and deals on those lotions Stiles loves,” Erica tells Laura. “ _And_ the limited edition Stiles has been waiting for _months_ ,” she emphasizes, “Plus the new issue of _Red Hood and the Outlaws_ I’ve been wanting to read.”

“So we thought we could help each other out,” Stiles grins. “Erica works her magic on the creams and makeup while I secure our collectibles.”

They both ignore when Erica pipes in under her breath with a _we gonna cut some bitches, yeet._

“A sale,” Laura states flatly. She raises an eyebrow, “And you’re leaving right now?”

“I wanna go,” Derek’s sleepy voice interrupts them from behind and Stiles isn’t even surprised. He heard his almost silent steps walking down the stairs after leaving the restroom.

Derek stops between them, a hand coming to rest on Erica’s shoulder at the same time warm fingers settle on Stiles’ throat, right over his pulse point. Laura’s eyes soften across the living room at the sight of her beta scent marking his pack mates.

Derek drops his head on Stiles’ shoulder. It makes him smile softly; Stiles doesn’t need to look to know Derek has his eyes closed. He’s a night owl, not a morning bird.

Sleepy Derek is so cute.

Erica gives Laura a winsome grin. “Only fools rush in, and mama definitely raised me to be a fool.”

It’s four in the morning. The stores open at nine o’clock. It’s a _sale._ At two well known, very competitive establishments.

They gotta be there first.

Laura stands up and grins at them. She fishes out the car keys from her front pocket.

“I’m driving.”

Stiles fist-pumps and Erica cheers, delighted.

“We were gonna drop by McDonalds to pick up a bite first,” Stiles tells them in a hushed voice as they exit the Hale House, tugging on Derek’s shirt softly and steering him towards the Camaro. He’s under no illusions that they’re sneaking out, he just doesn’t want to disturb the peaceful atmosphere. “Ya know, kill some time.”

“Let’s go IHOPs instead,” Derek mumbles, to which Erica eagerly agrees. Laura snorts.

“Jackson’s gonna be so mad he missed early morning shenanigans,” Stiles says, fastening his seatbelt. Erica rides shotgun so that Derek can curl up under Stiles’ arm.

“Where is he anyway?” Laura asks. She backs out of the driveway and starts them on the road. “I do know Boyd is at Granny’s tonight.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Stiles realizes, “You weren’t here all week, what with the thing at the Council and New York. He and Peter went camping.”

Laura’s mouth forms a little circle and she nods.

“And Isaac?”

“Asleep,” Erica says absently, focused on playing Candy Crush. “Poor thing dropped dead after his shift at the clinic.”

“Did he drain more pain than he should have again?” Laura asks even though she already knows the answer. Her face is the clear picture of fond resignation.

“Oh, let him be,” Stiles grins. “He’s bonded with the animals. It’s normal that he doesn’t want them to suffer. He can’t help it, he loves his job.”

Laura just sighs, but he can see the small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth reflecting off the rearview mirror.

After that, they fall in comfortable silence. Stiles rests his head over Derek’s and kisses his hair. It’s a good twenty-minute drive into town and then another ten to the closest IHOP, so he closes his eyes to get some rest and settles for the ride.

**Author's Note:**

> There’s no plot so far, so if anyone’s got any suggestions or requests, they’re more than welcomed!


End file.
